


Salvation

by tatch



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Cancer, Comfort, Cult Ending, Dissociation, Distrust, F/M, Fluff, Heartwrenching, I cried okay., M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicide Attempt, Suicide attempt in chapter 3, but still there, dream vs reality, it's very very non-graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: Five ways things could have happened after they saved Joseph (from whatever the fuck that dark thing was)And the one time he saved them.Based onthis postand the cult ending that was dug from the files (which can be found here)





	1. Pranking done right (or is it?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters start based more or less on the same intro (that I will not write here and keep vague so that I can change a few things from chapter to chapter):
> 
> Dadsona helps Mary and Robert free Joseph of the dark thing influence/possession/hold  
> Mary and Robert climb in a car with Joseph and disappear into the night.
> 
> Each chapter is separate and unrelated from the others.
> 
> Dadsona's name is Michael King here (don't ask me, it's all Ryxl's fault) and if you recognize who he looks like, again, Ryxl's fault

 

Joseph doesn't wake up in the car.

He doesn't wake up when Mary pulls up into the shabby motel's parking lot, or when Robert picks him up bridal style and carries him into the room Mary booked for the three of them.

He remains unconscious when Robert delicately sets him down onto the covers, takes his black shirt off, or when Mary tends to the knife wound marring his shoulder.

 

The room is nothing special, just on the edge between uninteresting and decrepit.

There's only one bed.

One chair.

A ridiculously small table.

At least, the bed is king sized. And looks relatively clean.

 

When it becomes obvious that Joseph isn't waking up anytime soon, Robert and Mary get comfortable and talk.

About what happened.

About what to do next.

About Michael.

About Amanda.

 

The man, barely more than a stranger, had helped them. He'd been the one to manage to drive the … whatever that thing had been… out of Joseph. (Robert still can't tell how Michael had done it, but whatever it was that he had done, it had worked.) He'd stayed behind to fight .. the thing. Shouting, telling them to take Joseph and get the hell out of dodge.

 

Silence between them as they remember the man. Newcomer, new neighbour. Fit in fast, despite a clear uneasiness regarding anything social or places with too many people. A parent like them, with a daughter that had reminded Robert of his Val a few times (but Michael's relationship with his daughter was so much better than Robert's with Val.) Robert hopes for the best but he knows they need to prepare for the worst.

 

They take showers in turn, Mary first, then Robert. Hers is short, almost brisk, but Robert stays under the hot water for far longer.

Jose is safe now, right?

If he would only wake up…

Shaking his head, he finally emerges from the small bathroom.

"Ma-" She's on the phone.

 

He sits on the bed by Joseph's side, finishes towelling his hair dry as she listens intently. A few words are exchanged then she hangs up. He raises a brow at her. She sighs, teeth worrying at her lip.

"They found Michael on the shore.  He's in the hospital."

She shakes her head, continues. "Amanda said the docs think he's okay, just not waking up."

"He's not the only one." Robert points out, glancing at Joseph's still deeply asleep form.

"I couldn't exactly tell her that…"

"Why not."

"Cops found evidence that Joseph was embezzling funds from the church. They're looking for him."

"It wasn't Joseph."

"No. But who would believe us if we told them the truth?"

They stay silent, observing the way Joseph's chest rises and falls softly, unperturbed by their concerned gazes.

"Point taken."

 

They wait.

Mary goes to get pizza at some point. Returns with all of their favourites. Pineapple for Robert, Calzone for Mary and a disgusting mozzarella and anchovies one for Jose. They eat. Joseph sleeps. Eventually, she falls asleep, tiredness marking her face. But the weight that had been pulling at her is gone. She looks younger. Still tired and marked by life, but no longer exhausted and like she's two steps from falling to the ground and never getting up again.

Robert dozes off and wakes up jerkily over and over again, Mary snuggled against his hip as he _tries_ to stay awake and keep an eye on Joseph.

 

It's not until the first lights of dawn that Jose stirs.

Robert is so tired by then that he almost doesn't see the first movements.

Jose stretches.

Yawns.

Rolls.

Stills.

Pats the bed.

Makes a questioning half-awake sound.

Opens an eye and frowns.

Sits up all of a sudden.

 

Robert eyes him carefully. Joseph has his back to him, staring at the rest of the room, the discarded pizza boxes, the haphazardly thrown and quickly forgotten clothes lying around. He turns to look in Robert's direction, to the rest of the room but stops halfway through his move.

"The fuck…?" It's barely more than a mutter, filled with confusion. Joseph presses fingers on the covered wound and hisses, pulling them away like he burned himself. He starts turning again, more careful and finally their eyes meet. Jose stares for a long time. The expression on his face shifts from confusion to anger to something like resignation.

"Okay, you got me."

What.

"Don't know what I expected when I agreed to sleeping at your place." Joseph sighs, rubs his neck.

_What._

To say that Robert is confused, is an understatement.

"But seriously Robs, white hair? That's a dumb one."

 

_Robs._

Jose hasn't called him Robs in … what _years?_

Definitely years.  

Before they hooked up.

Before he'd married Mary.

Before he'd returned from his trip.

Before Joseph had left in the early morning after spending his last night in Brooklyn on Robert's couch.

That night…. Robert had pulled Jose in an embrace. (He only knew him as Jose at the time) The guy was leaving on a road trip the next day, and well, Robert kinda had a crush on him. (He had met his wife about a month and a half after Joseph's departure.) So he'd offered his couch so that the guy could make some economies (with hopes of more.)  Joseph had been a bit uncertain but had accepted in the end.

 

Mary had been there, after all, Robert and her had been friends for a very long time.

 

Her first time meeting Joseph.

 

 

Joseph is still talking in ushered tones, looking vaguely resigned and … fond?

"Joseph." A sharp look, eyes narrowing.

"I never told you my name."

"Joseph Christiansen."

Joseph looks highly confused and shakes his head.

"Ström. Name's Ström. I've been thinking of getting it changed but I want to do this trip first." He frowns for about half second before shrugging, hissing as it pulls on his wounds.

"Don't you think you went a bit far for a prank , Robs? I know you like them but come on …"

"Jose." Joseph keeps muttering to himself. Something about Sweden and ... Norway?

 

" _Jose."_

There must be something in his tone this time because Jose looks back his way.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Joseph gives him a weird  look. Robert licks his lips, not missing the way Jose's eyes follow it. "Just- Humour me."

 

The blond man rolls his eyes and huffs.

"Fine. You invited me to come sleep at your place. I wasn't sure it was a good idea so I didn't say yes directly." A helpless shrug. "But I'm tight on money so I figured it would be a good way to make some economies." The blush on Joseph's cheeks says there's something else but Robert doesn't press the matter.

 

He rubs his neck. How is he supposed to breach the news to Joseph?

'Hey guess what, you lost twenty years of your life because some evil entity or whatever decided that your body suited them nicely. Sorry, here have some pizza.'

 

Fuck.

"I didn't realize you two were… that close."

_Wait what._

Robert blinks. Looks in the direction Jose is looking in. Mary is still asleep, head buried at the junction of his hip and the pillow under her head. Oh. OH.

 

"What, no, we're not-"

"No, no it's okay, I shouldn't have-"

"Jos-"

"I-I'll go, don't mind me-"

"Jose, she's married to you."

 

That stops Joseph fumbling around.

 

"Rob-"

"You've had four kids together."

"That's not-"

"You house is two stories high and you organize barbecues every Saturday."

"That's not possible, okay!"

Robert stops.

"Why?"

"Because I'm gay okay?! I've never- I would never-" He shudders, in something that looks like utter disgust. "... Fuck off." Joseph turns away, hugging himself, shaking his head, lips pinched in an unhappy line.

 

Shit.

 

Robert moves and wraps his arms around Joseph, not letting go when the man half struggles. Mary curses and grumbles unhappily, having been woken up by Robert's sudden movement.

"Jose, you've been… I don't even know how to call it… Possessed?" He tightens his grip, the memory still fresh.

"Wha-"

"That thing has been using your body for years and we just- We realized it very recently." Joseph stops struggling and falls silent. His heart is beating a million miles an hour.

" We should have seen it. But neither of us had seen you in years so... I guess we put the differences on the time that had passed." He presses his forehead against Jose's neck.

"I'm sorry."

 

"… You're joking, right?" Joseph's voice is weak, pleading.

Robert shakes his head. "I wish." He swallows.

 

The silence is only broken by Mary's quiet shuffling as she sits, now fully awake.

Joseph finally speaks again, trembling.

"Twenty years."

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

 

He rests his back against Robert's chest and buries his face in his hands.

 

Twenty years is a long time.

A very long time.

 

"Jose…"

"Stay. Please. I can't-" A sob.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He stays.

 


	2. Don't wait for me

 

Joseph stumbles, barely conscious, an arm slung over Robert’s shoulders as they escape the … place or thing or whatever the fuck this hellish and dark maze was.

 

Their pace is hurried, only broken down whenever Joseph stumbles, steps faltering as his eyes close. There are hushed words between them, quiet encouragements and demands. They're almost there, just a bit more. Just stay awake a bit longer. You can do it, just a bit more. Finally, they reach the car, Robert's pick-up. It's sturdier than Mary or Joseph cars, so it had been Mary's first choice when she's pulled him out of his sulking to come rescue Michael.

 

The fact that they had ended up rescuing Joseph and not Michael was … a completely unexpected turn of event. Robert has the feeling that Mary knew about Joseph being possessed. But Robert himself had had no idea. He'd put it all on Joseph being a two faced traitorous piece of shit that thrived in others misery.

 

Turned out he had been right.

 

It just hadn't been Joseph.

 

Robert is too busy keeping an eye on Joseph and on the way he keeps passing out, only to wake up a few minutes later, breath shallow and eyes unfocused, to pay attention to where Mary is going. Or to what she’s doing. Until she stops in the middle of nowhere. He waits for an explanation.

Mary’s grip on the wheel is tight.

 

“Michael’s daughter called.”

 

“And?”

 

“The cops are at my house.” Her eyes drift to Joseph before looking back to him. “They’re looking for us.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I don’t know, but she was worried about our safety. She said to beware of Joseph.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Something must have happened. Do you think Michael-”

 

Robert shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Silence weights between them.

 

“We can’t stay in Maple Bay.”

 

She nods tightly. “I still have the money I took from the last few bake sales. We can use that. For starters.”

 

“I need to get Betsy.”

 

“Rob…”

 

“I’m not leaving her behind, Mary.”

 

She sighs. “ _Fine._ How do you plan to do that?”

 

“... I have an idea.”

 

And that’s how Robert ends up at his door at the crack of dawn, a mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, (they had stopped by a shitty liquor store and bought the stuff, emptying a good half of it on his clothes. They had just had to wait for it to dry before moving in) fumbling to open his door with the other. He can see the cops in their car, shuffling in quick (uncoordinated) motions to try and get to him before he’s in.

 

He has no intention to talk to them. Not now. Or ever, if things go according to plan. He slams and locks the door behind himself, scratches Betsy’s ears before heading upstairs. Ignores the cops when they call to him, as he smokes on his balcony. They must decide to try again later, once he’s ‘slept the alcohol off’ because they back off and retreat to their car.

 

Good.

 

He finishes his cigarette slowly then gets back in. Takes a shower, changes, grabs a few toys and some food for Betsy, then Betsy herself and then, he leaves. He has no intention of ever returning and he has the only thing he needed from that place. (He almost pities whoever will have to search for evidence in his house.) As planned, Mary picks him up shortly after, in an alley near the aquarium.

 

They vanish without a trace.

 

* * *

 

The small apartment they holed up in is at least clean. But it’s cramped and smelly and Robert would kill to be able to take a shower without bumping his elbows on the walls. Joseph keeps drifting in and out of consciousness. It’s been three days and his state hasn’t changed. Mary and him exchange looks, worried, regularly, but the alternative is that _there is no alternative_.

 

Can’t go to a hospital to get Joseph through some tests.

Can’t go see a doctor.

They’re both out of friends and family.

 

Out of options.

 

All they can do is _wait_. (Because neither of them will pray.)

  


It’s almost a relief on the fourth day, when Robert wakes up to Joseph hovering over him, staring.

 

_Almost._

 

Because Joseph’s eyes are wild and unblinking, his expression intense.

 

“Jose?”

 

He doesn’t expect the pained whine or the way Joseph scrambles away, shaking, holding himself.

 

“Hey hey, you’re safe now.” He moves forward slowly, hands held up high. Joseph reminds him of a wild animal. Eyes darting here and there, back to Robert whenever he moves. Teeth clenched, bared in a snarl, jaw tense. He backs away when Robert moves forward, hovers at a distance when he stops moving.

 

Something is _very_ wrong.

 

“Rob?”

Mary.

 

He turns her way but her gaze has already moved onto Joseph, who’s now pacing, muttering between his teeth, his tone frantic, hands pulling at his hair.

 

Robert can’t hear what Joseph is saying from where he stands. He approaches, slowly, but this time, Joseph ignores him entirely. Even when he wraps his arms around him gently, feeling the tremors, the tension running through Joseph’s body, the man doesn’t react. Still muttering a litany of ‘it’s not real, it’s not real, don’t be fooled, it wasn’t real before, no-one knows, no-one knows, no-one will save you, it’s not real, no, no, no, don’t be fooled, don’t be fooled, it’s not real’.

 

Robert manages to get Joseph back onto the bed, where he lies down and doesn’t move, still whispering his litany frantically. Mary and Robert exchange a look. They curl around Joseph, rub hands down his back and murmur soothing words. Eventually, Joseph falls asleep.

  


The next morning, he awakes. But he’s unresponsive. He blinks. He breaths. He chews or swallows if food or drinks are put in his mouth. But that’s about it. There’s no emotion. No will. It’s like he’s just … not there any more.

It breaks Robert’s heart but after a long talk (and a few days), they decide to put him in a hospice. People will care for him, better than either of them would be able to.

 

For that, they need money.

And they have the required skills to make a lot of money in a very short time.

 

Lies and charm and perfectly weaved stories. Cons. Soon, they have enough to care for Joseph. And then some.

They settle somewhere. Far enough from the hospice that it puts Mary at ease, but close enough that Robert can easily visit him.

 

While Robert goes to visit Joseph every month, Mary refuses to get anywhere near him. She signs the papers, makes sure her husband gets everything he needs (and that Robert has as much right to see and care for him as she does) but that's all.

She spends most of her time tending to their garden, and to the pets they got.

Robert doesn't mind. She's there when and where it matters.

 

They carry each other along the way.

Sometimes literally.

 

Robert slowly diminishes his alcohol consumption, then quits drinking entirely. It's hard. But Mary's there.

She doesn't stop drinking herself. But her reasons for drinking as heavily as she had are gone. She still drinks, but it's a glass that lasts through the day, or a cocktail in her end that sits unfinished on the table as they settle to watch a movie.

A strong drink to help her sleep if nightmares plague her nights.

 

As time passes, her smiles linger, get warmer. She holds his hand, spends more time cuddled by his side. He launches into long conversations about movies and she listens, a fond expression lighting up her face.

Robert has always been shit at recognizing emotions. All the non-aggressive ones anyway. (He could tell all the shades of anger and resentment and aggression in a matter of seconds)

 

The kiss is unexpected.

 

Soft, a brush against his lips. Mary moves away, not by much, but enough that he doesn't feel crowded. She knows him. She gives him time to process what just happened, then kisses him again. She knows him so well.

The house is less quiet than usual that night.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey buddy."

 

Robert sits by Joseph's side. There's a moment of silence as he waits for an answer that won't come, then it passes. He just sits and starts telling Joseph everything that happened in the past month.

 

Mary found a job and she's happy. Okay, happy might be exaggerating it but hey, she's happier than before.

 

They got a small house with a backyard that ends into woods.

The garden's beautiful.

Big too.

Lots of work.

Keeps him on his toes.

 

Got two dogs, and three cats to fill the garden. And the house.

Mary had insisted that they had the same number of dogs and cats.

And while Betsy was starting to show her age, she's still around.

 

Amanda (Michael's daughter, remember her?) started working with Val.

Not exactly _with_ her but they worked for the same company, and sometimes, together.

 

He had started patching things up with Val. It was a … slow process but at least they were talking now.

 

Roberts talks about this and that, about their neighbours, the cul-de-sac, the town, the church.

Once he no longer has anything to say, he takes a book out of his bag and starts reading aloud.

His voice is quiet, meant for Joseph's ears only.

 

Time passes.

 

A hand on his shoulder.

 

Robert looks up. The nurse gives him a stern glare.

“Time to go, Mr. Small.”

 

He nods, tightly. Gets up and leaves.

 

 

He’s back the next month.

 

* * *

 

 

Fourteen months.

Fourteen months of genuine happiness.

 

 

Then Mary gets ill.

 

It's not much at first.

 

She loses some weight, starts feeling weak and tired more often than not.

 

'It's nothing', she says, 'it will pass.'

 

Robert believes her. He has no reason not to.

 

It's not until she almost faints down the stairs, a hand on her stomach, that he carries her to the car ('You handsome man' she jokes weakly) and drives her to the hospital.

 

He isn't sure how long he waits. Hours? Days? Weeks?

 

But the results finally come back and they sit in a soft coloured room. Creamy. Warm. Reassuring. Contrasting so strongly with the rest of the hospital that it puts him on edge.

 

Cancer.

 

Mary has a cancer.

 

The doctor speaks of treatment, (even though the type of cancer Mary has evolved really fast, and she was already quite far along.) but her face, her expression is one of pity and compassion.

 

Her words say Mary has a chance.

But she doesn't believe it herself.

 

They both see the dichotomy, but Robert was too shocked to do anything. Mary has to gently pull him away, ignoring the doctor who tries to keep on convincing them.

 

She pulls him through the hospital. Then to the car. Coaxes him out of his stupor so he can drive them back. (She doesn't want to risk fainting behind the wheel and killing them both)

 

Once home, she lets him carry her back to their bed, petting his hair softly, holding him through the tremors that rake through his body.

 

"I can't lose you too." He whispers.

 

"I know." She murmurs.

 

Much later, as exhaustion and resignation have taken hold of him, Mary lifts his chin and looks him right in the eye.

 

"We both know things are not going to be pretty. I want-" She swallows, faltering for a second. "-I want you to remember me like this. Okay?"

 

His throat closes, the words refusing to come out.

 

"Please. Rob, please."

 

"Okay. Okay. Anything you want."

 

He'd done his best to forget the rest, to remember her in that very moment. His memories of what had followed are foggy at best, but he remembers bits. Brief moments of clarity piercing through the veil of sorrow and denial.

 

He remembers the doctor, calling, again and again, to try and get Mary to come back. They could help, they would buy her some time. Mary, refusing again and turning their phone off after a few of these calls.

 

He remembers the day she had no longer been able to get up. How she had cursed and got him to carry her around.

 

He doesn't remember much, but he remembers.

 

And then one morning, she's gone.

 

He sits there for a long time.

 

He had known it was coming.

It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

It's like losing his wife all over again.

 

Instead of receiving a call to tell him that his wife has died, he had to call to get someone to come get the remains of the woman he loved. The guy he speaks to is  really nice, even though Robert is still unable to remember what his name had been. Keepshim just distracted enough. Not too compassionate but gentle with the questions he asks, giving him time to find answers, asking again whenever he feels like Robert isn't quite there anymore.

 

They come and take her.

 

Incinerate her.

 

Robert spreads her ashes into their garden, as she had wanted him to.

 

* * *

 

 

The other people… patients? that are in the room with Joseph wait quietly until Robert's done with keeping Joseph up to date on what happened in his life. It's a tale that has been becoming shorter and shorter as Robert grows older. He's got more white than brown in his hair now. Not that he really cares. (Joseph's hair has started getting whiter too, the golden slowly fading into white. But it's still mostly gold.)

 

Once he's done, he pulls the book he had taken with him this time out and settles more comfortably to read to Jose.

 

It's like a signal. The other patients … residents? shuffle closer and sit in a semi-circle around him. Robert doesn't mind. They're quiet, listening silently until he's done for the day. They know he's only reading to one of them. The only one that doesn't react to the story.

 

He's there every week, reading for Joseph. Once, one of the nurses had offered him money to come more often and read to everyone.

 

He'd threatened the guy in his calm deadpan voice. (It had felt nice)

He'd been banned from coming back because of that. (Not so nice)

 

But the residents had been distraught by his sudden disappearance and management had called him after a week and a half to inform him that his banishment was over. (He'd already been half way through getting Joseph to another place when he'd received the news.) There had been a quiet plea in the manager's voice and Robert had relented, saying he would be there as usual. (He was tired and old and it was simply easier that way)

 

Robert reads, voice soft, until he hears the nurses come closer and the residents shuffle away.

 

He reads until he's alone with Joseph, the rest of the room empty and silent. He knows the nurses will put the others back in their rooms and usher the other visitors away (not that there are many) before coming back to him.

 

He reads, ignoring the world.

 

A hand on his shoulder.

 

The nurse’s gaze is … almost sad. Filled with pity over seeing him come every week to read books to a man who never gives any sign of understanding what is going on.

 

“Do you want a minute?”

 

Robert swallows and shakes his head.

“It won’t be necessary … Thanks.”

 

She smiles.

Her smile too is filled with pity.

 

Gentleness.

Kindness.

Sympathy.

 

He hates it.

 

 

He’s back the next week.

 

* * *

 

 

The house is silent now.

 

Too silent.

 

He takes the dogs out for a ride.

 

Somehow, Robert finds himself in front of a liquor store.

The place is run down, on the verge of abandoned. And yet, he finds himself drawn to it. There's a voice in the back of his head, pushing his feet forward, pulling him to the barely lit interior.

 

_'It's okay, just come in. You'll feel better. Just forget. It will be easier to forget.'_

 

He stops. He's what, three feet from the door.

 

He doesn't want to forget.

 

It hurts, oh, it hurts so much.

But he never wants to forget Mary's smiles or laughs or the way she swayed slowly to a melody or another, lost in her own world whenever she thought he wasn't around.

 

He needs her.

He misses her.

He doesn't want to forget.

 

He leaves.

 

 

Betsy is old now. Robert knows she doesn't have much time left either. He gets another dog the day after she passes away. (on top of the two Mary had gotten them in the beginning of their living here.)

 

It's not the same.

And the house is still too silent.

But.

It's something.

 

The next time Val calls, he's the one to pick up the phone. (There's no-one else left to do it anyway) She doesn't know. At some point, she asks to speak to Mary, something about begonias.

And Robert doesn't quite break.

But.

It's a near thing.

 

She must hear it in his voice, even though he can barely speak, can't explain. He's barely holding together as is.

 

"Stay home, I'll be here in an hour."

He mutters an agreement and she hangs up.

Robert isn't sure how or when Val arrives, curled up as he is, his three dogs surrounding him. He drifts in and out and at some point when he opens his eyes, she's there. He can hear Judith, Val's wife, and their kids in the kitchen, just out of sight.

"I'm here."

He nods.

She's there.

 

For a time, the silence is gone.

 

* * *

 

 

These days, Robert's hair is more on the side of white than anything else. (it's entirely white and he knows it, but he keeps up appearances, even if it's just for Val and her wife. And their five children.) He still has some black in his beard so there's that. Joseph's jaw is as clean shaven as ever. His hair is as white as Robert's now.

 

He sits, joints creaking and protesting.

He really is old.

He doesn't care.

 

Most of the residents he used to consider old are gone. Some died. Some went back to their families for their last months on earth. (The lucky ones. Or were they really?)

Guess he's the old one now, since most of the residents look younger than him or Joseph.

 

He sighs.

Sits.

Talks about his week.

 

There really isn't much to say.

 

Takes out his book.

The others shuffle closer.

It's a ritual like another. It feels kinda nice.

 

He reads and forgets the world.

 

Shuffling around him as the residents are brought back to their rooms.

He doesn't care.

 

A hand on his shoulder.

 

Robert looks up from the book.

But there’s no-one.

He frowns.

 

He can still feel the hand on his shoulder.

He turns.

 

For the first time in forever, blue eyes meet his.

 

There’s a softness in that gaze, something Robert hasn’t seen since in so long he feels like a man seeing the sea after spending an eternity trapped in the desert.

He swallows, his mouth dry.

 

Joseph smiles.

“Hey.”


	3. Red like poppies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a (very non graphic and mostly hinted at) suicide attempt. Please be careful, my peeps.

 

Joseph wakes up in the car.

 

Mary is driving too fast, adrenaline still rushing in her veins. She’s too focused on the road and on not crashing the car into a tree to notice the unfocused look, or the slight frown on her husband’s face.

 

Robert however, has his eyes on Joseph’s face.

 

“Mary. He’s coming back to.”

 

She glances their way in the mirror, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. Robert can’t blame her. Whatever the fuck the thing that had once been in Joseph’s body had been, it had worked very hard to break Mary and make her as depressed and miserable as it could. The … entity might no longer be there, but the fear it had carved into Mary’s heart and mind lingers. It’ll probably take a while before she can look at Joseph without flinching away. But she nods, once, tightly, before focusing back on the road.

 

“Wha- What … happened ..?” Joseph mumbles.

 

He tries to frown but winces instead, the wound in his shoulder pulsating harshly. It will have to be bandaged, though sewn closed is more probable, Robert muses. He swallows.

 

“It’s alright, Jose. You’re safe. Just rest for now, okay?”

 

Joseph looks like he wants to say something but he furrows his brows instead, and lets his head rest on Robert’s shoulder with an almost inaudible ‘okay’ before he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t go back to sleep, body tensing and untensing in rhythm with the bumps of the road. But he’s not quite responsive either.

 

It’s not until they reach the motel, Mary cutting the engine and Robert calling his name gently that Joseph opens his eyes again. Robert barely has the time to see the blue of Joseph’s eyes before he looks away. But there was something there.

 

Fear.

 

He doesn’t know what to make of it.

 

So instead of dwelling on things he has no explanation for, he helps the injured man out of the car and into the motel room. Joseph is leaning heavily on him, his breaths short, brows pinched, stumbling and swallowing little whimpers.

 

“Medkit.”

 

“Already on it. Back in a few.” Mary answers, starting the engine again. She revs back and vanishes on the road, still driving fast, too fast. Robert still doesn’t blame her. He won’t comment on it either. He would probably be doing the same thing if it was him in her stead.

 

But it isn’t.

 

Well, kinda is. But it’s … different.

 

He carefully helps Joseph onto the bed. The wound is still bleeding, but it’s hard to see how bad it is with the clothing in the way.

 

“Jose, I need to pull your shirt off to get a look at your wound. It’s going to hurt.”

 

Joseph nods, one of his hands coming to cling at Robert’s forearm, eyes still downcast. Someone else might do this slowly or try to ease the injured man’s obvious pain and discomfort away. Robert doesn’t. He _is_ careful not to pull on the wound, but he removes the clothing as fast as he can. Like a bandage, he tells himself, biting his lip. It doesn’t really help him feel better about Joseph’s sharp intake of air, his choked-on whimper or the fingers he can feel with painful clarity digging into his forearm.

 

“Okay?”

 

It takes a minute or so before Joseph lets out a pained ‘yes’. Robert nods to himself and throws the stained shirt away. He shifts to get a better look at the deep cut. It looks mostly clean. Except for all the blood, of course. Kinda deep, but not as large as he expected it to be. Still bleeding. Not abundantly though. Just a steady unending trickle. Didn’t pierce through. Small mercies.

 

Joseph’s grip has moved from his forearm to his shoulder. His teeth are gritted, his eyes closed in pained concentration.

 

“Hey.”

 

A sliver of blue, searching for Robert’s face.

 

“Stay with me.”

 

The grip on his shoulder tightens.

 

“Come on, let’s get you comfortable. Mary will take some time.”

 

Robert knows that she will take time. She had picked the motel that was the further away from any of the places they usually went to. The cul-de-sac, Jim & Kim’s bar, the theater, the marina. Far but close enough that she didn’t have to drive all that long to get them there. Still. Gonna be some time before she returns.

 

He maneuvers himself and Joseph so that Joseph’s back rests against his chest, one of Robert’s hand pressing his own shirt against the wound, to put some pressure on it. Robert vaguely remembers shucking his jacket off at some point too. Doesn’t quite remember where it landed or when he took it off. Doesn’t matter.

 

What matters is the grip Joseph has on his thigh. The way his breath hitches and stills every now and then. The soft hair under Robert’s fingers, white in place. (When had it become so white.) The silence.

 

The silence is unsettling.

 

Robert isn’t used to Joseph being silent. But maybe this is the real Joseph, silent and pliant and full of fear. It’s not like he knows. It’s not like he has any way of knowing. How long had that thing been inside Jose exactly? Had it already been there the first time they had met? During their first kiss? Or had it come later, corrupting and destroying whatever it had been that had started between them. Leaving Robert grasping at nothing while it laughed in the confines of Joseph’s head, pulling a neutral smile on those soft lips, shaping them into empty words and false excuses.

 

He doesn’t know.

 

The door opens and Mary is there. Robert snaps out of his thoughts. The medkit is put on the covers.

 

“Hold him still.”

 

Robert puts a hand on the one that’s gripping his thigh, giving it a light squeeze, then snakes his other arm around Joseph’s waist, securing his hold on him.

 

“It’s not going to be pleasant, Jose. Try to stay still, okay?”

 

Joseph swallows audibly, fingers lacing with Robert’s.

 

“Okay.” he whispers.

 

Mary gets to work.

 

It is not pleasant for Robert nor Mary, and certainly not for Joseph. But it’s necessary. And thankfully, between Mary knowing what she’s doing, Joseph trying and mostly succeeding to remain still and not flinch away and Robert holding him still when he doesn’t, they manage to get the wound closed in record time. Mary then covers the wound in sterilized gauze to prevent infections and for anything to pull at the threads.

 

Joseph finally relaxes back into Robert’s embrace, his body going lax from exhaustion. He’s not asleep, far from it, but he’s too tired physically for his body to remain stressed and tense. He needs some rest.

 

As Mary puts everything back into the medkit, Robert slowly eases Joseph onto his uninjured shoulder. Blond eyelashes flutter. Had they always been that long? Robert sighs and lays next to Joseph, propped on one arm, hand playing with Joseph’s hair, his other arm resting on his own hip. Joseph’s eyes glance up, almost instantly darting back down to focus on whatever might be highly interesting over Robert’s chest.

 

It was there again.

 

That fear.

 

He still doesn’t understand.

 

Mary hovers around the edge of the bed. Robert can tell that she’s reticent to get so close. To be near Joseph. He stares silently, an absence of judgement in his eyes as he waits, his fingers still stroking through hair that is even softer than it looks.

 

She must come to a decision because she shucks her skirt and heels and climbs onto the bed, her long sweater covering her almost to mid-thigh. The bed is barely big enough for the three of them. But even if Mary decides to keep her distance, Robert himself has every intention of spending the night pressed against Jose. Every intention of clinging and not letting go. Of spending the night with his face buried in soft hair, arms wrapped around a gently curved neck. He doesn’t want distance between them. He just got the man back, he’s nowhere near ready to let him go again. Not yet. Maybe never. Does it matter. (The answer is no.)

 

The bed dips behind Joseph and Robert sees the way his eyes close, the vulnerability on that face. Mary’s hold on her husband’s waist is gentle but tentative, hesitant. Uncertainty in her every move. Robert leans to whisper in against Joseph’s forehead.

 

“You’re safe, Jose. No-one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

 

Eyes fly open. Look at him. The emotion there is way too complex for Robert to recognize it like that, and before he can try, Joseph’s eyes well with tears. Joseph tries, he really tries to not just bawl his heart out. Try to keep it inside. Like hell. Robert uses the arm that he’s not using the pet Jose’s hair to pull him into his neck, his own chin resting atop Joseph’s head.

 

“I promise. We got you.”

 

A choked sound and the dam breaks. Tears stream down, choked whimpers alternating with repressed wails that vibrate in Joseph’s chest but come out weak, too weak. Hands try to cling at him and Robert tightens his hold on Jose, still petting his hair in gentle regular strokes. Reassuring, solid, present.

 

Whatever it was that had had Mary hesitate, it is washed away by Joseph’s sobs. Her eyebrows climb up, something hurt passes on her face, and then she’s pressing against his back, muttering soft reassurances between his shoulders, her grip on him no longer hovering, but firm and strong instead. If anything, it only makes the man’s sobs more profound, racking his whole body in ugly shakes and shivers.

 

Eventually, the crying subsides, replaced by shuddered breaths and stuttered inhales. Joseph’s eyelashes flutter tiredly once, twice and then he’s asleep. Robert keeps on petting his hair and Mary doesn’t move either.

 

“There were cops all over the house. Michael is in the hospital. I called Amanda. She said they don’t know if he’ll wake up.” She whispers over Joseph’s lying body.

 

“Cops see you?”

 

“I’m not a rookie, Robert.” She rolls her eyes. He smirks in answer.

 

“Did Amanda say anything else?”

 

Mary shakes her head. “Just that a detective was supposed to talk to her dad if… when he would wake up.”

 

“Fuck. We need to talk to him before them.”

 

She hums an agreement, her eyes on his fingers, still stroking through Joseph’s hair. They lock eyes, an unspoken agreement in the air.

 

“Rest. I’ll keep a lookout.”

 

Mary nods and lays her head back down, letting her forehead rest between Joseph’s shoulder blades. A handful of minutes pass and her respiration deepens. Robert sighs. He’s alone with his thoughts again. Great.

 

He lays down too, changing his grip slowly so that his arms are embracing Joseph, keeping him close, hidden from the world.

 

Safe.

 

That’s all that really matters.

 

* * *

 

 

The bed dips. Something pulls at his arms.

 

Robert grunts. Whatever time it is, it’s still too early.

 

“Bathroom.” Joseph’s voice.

 

He lets go reluctantly. “Don’t take too long...”

The bed dips more then doesn’t.

 

The soft patter of feet on cheap carpet. The bathroom’s door opens, then closes.

 

Robert drifts back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Soft hair in his nose.

 

He grumbles.

 

Buries his nose deeper.

 

Pulls closer.

 

Yawns.

 

Lazily moves a hand up to stroke through that hair.

 

Which… is way longer than it should be.

 

Robert cracks an eye open.

 

The colour is not quite right either.

 

He pulls back.

 

Mary. He’s got Mary against him.

 

Shit. Where’s Joseph?

 

After a few seconds of frantically looking around and noticing that Joseph’s shoes are still there, along with the car’s keys, his hearing finally starts working again.

 

The shower is on.

 

The tension drains out of Robert’s body, leaving him shaky around the edges.

 

“Shit.” He could use a smoke. Mary rolls away with a muttered curse, pulling the covers with her, less than half awake. Robert rubs his neck and gets up, stumbles around looking for his jacket. Where- Ah there it is. He doesn’t want to know how it landed behind the shabby looking chair on the other side of the room. As he pats it for his pack of cigarettes, he frowns. He needs to pee. He could go out and do that behind a bush but. Well. He doesn’t feel like peeing behind a bush in the early morning. Is it still morning? Even if it isn’t for the rest of the world, he just woke up, so it is for him.

 

He patters toward the bathroom’s door. Knocks a few times.

 

“Jose, you done soon? It’s too early for bush-peeing.”

 

No answer. Robert steps closer, stopping when the carpet squelches wetly under his foot.

 

There’s water coming from under the door.

 

Fuck.

 

He slams the door open, distantly hears Mary jump in bed.

 

Red.

 

There’s so much red.

 

Joseph would look almost peaceful, if not for the pained frown on his face. Robert rushes to him. Carefully, he pries Joseph’s finger open, throwing the knife away. _It’s one of his_.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“Come on, come on, Jose, stay with me.”

 

“Robert?” He hears Mary move.

 

“Call an ambulance!” More noises, frantic now.

 

Shit. The noise must stir Joseph because Robert is suddenly looking into _blue_.

 

He doesn’t expect the smile.

 

Joseph is speaking, soft, too soft, but he can’t hear, the sound of the water running like a roar in his ears, covering any other sound. He picks Joseph up and carries him back to the bed, uncaring of the water or the blood he’s spraying everywhere. Mary’s breath hitch as she finishes explaining what’s going on, her voice suddenly tight with panic. Robert might be a bit frantic when he lunges for the medkit. Only to rummage blindly through it. What is that stuff even used for.

 

He can’t-

He can’t-

A soft hand on his wrist. A nod from Mary, even though her eyes are a bit too wild.

 

He goes back to Joseph’s side, feels more than he sees her move to try and tend to Joseph’s self inflicted cuts.

 

Joseph is still whispering.

 

“He wouldn’t… wouldn’t let me, had to ... had to, can’t let him hurt you … a-again.”

 

There’s ink (symbols?) on his biceps and shoulders, but it’s… fading? And as it vanishes away, Robert hears Mary’s breath hitch again. Joseph’s head propped on his leg, cradled in his arms, he looks her way.

 

How had they never noticed all the scars.

 

There are so many, looking the same, just different in sizes and colors. ( _Stages of healing,_ a part of his mind screams)

 

Long straight scars.

 

All along Joseph’s arms.

 

So many.

 

How many time had he tried already…

 

The words start making sense.

 

_Fuck._

 

Joseph’s eyes close, his breath more and more laboured.

 

No. _No._

 

“Stay with me, Jose. I can’t lose you again.”

 


End file.
